The King's Loyal Servant
by Endellion
Summary: Murtagh and Thorn are sent by Galbatorix on a mission to Gil ead, in order to rid their army of a traitor. He takes his friend, the healer, with him. Sequel to my story The Edge of Madness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! Finally back with that sequel. Sorry it took me so long. -_-**

**For those new to this story, this is a sequel to my story "The Edge of Madness". Though you might be able to get this story without reading the prequel, you'd probably understand it more if you did.**

**Um, yeah...I hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the last one. ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

Murtagh walked through the large double doors. He stood confidently with his shoulders square, his head held high. He made his way into the large throne room, appearing collected though his last visit to this place was far from pleasant. The intensity of his punishment had lasting affects on his body and mind, no matter how many times he healed himself, and those affects naturally left him apprehensive. He wondered why he was summoned here, if it was only so Galbatorix could relieve some of his anger on him again.

He came to the center of the room, just before the flight of stairs that led up to the throne. Not once meeting eyes with his master, he went to his knees and bowed his head. "You summoned me, your majesty?"

Galbatorix stood from his throne, his back turned to his servant as he stared beyond at nothing in particular. "I have another task for you. I'm sending you to Gil`ead, to rid their army of a traitor."

Murtagh lifted his head slightly.

"In Gil`ead?"

"Yes. My spies within the Varden tell me of a source of information among the soldiers there. I want you to find him out, so we may rid ourselves of this nuisance."

"Yes, sire," he replied. He took a moment to ponder Gil`ead, remembering all he had heard about the city. Information and rumours were rampant in the castle, and he recalled many of them. Even though Gil`ead's army was vast, it was vulnerable. Many of their magicians and healers had been killed in raids by the Varden, and a good amount of the troops had gone to reinforce Ceunon since it came under attack from the elves. It was no surprise a traitor could survive among them, but Murtagh wondered how a mere traitor could cause Galbatorix so much unease. There were many men and soldiers feeding the Varden information, what about this one warranted sending a Dragon Rider after him?

"When will I leave?" he asked.

"Tonight. I want this problem dealt with incase Ceunon falls."

"If I may, your majesty..." he ventured. Galbatorix turned slightly, fixing one of his dark eyes on his slave. "Many of Gil`ead's magicians and healers have been killed, and their army is vulnerable. And many of their soldiers have been injured in the raids, even-"

"What are you suggesting?" he interrupted.

"Allow a healer to accompany me, your majesty."

Galbatorix's eyes narrowed, but he didn't voice any objection. He merely said, "You wish to take Zuriel with you?"

Murtagh was uncomfortable knowing his intentions were so obvious, but he confirmed his suspicions with a nod. He only hoped Galbatorix's need for the skilled healer wasn't too great in Uru'baen.

"Very well," he conceded in the end, although he didn't look very happy about the proposal. "Just make sure nothing happens to her. She is a valuable healer, and I do not wish to replace her."

Murtagh dipped his head even lower. "Yes, your majesty."

"Now go."

Without another word, Murtagh rose from his knees. With another quick bow that went unnoticed by his master, he turned and left the throne room.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Not quite sure I'm liking the title. :/ I may change it later. If I do, I'll let you know before hand.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

The night was clear, and he could see the stars perfectly from his place on the balcony. The air was cool and calm, the city below shining with many lanterns, which shown brightly even from that height. Murtagh took a moment to enjoy the silence, only accompanied by Thorn's incoherent dreaming thoughts. He focused on the flow of feelings and emotions, but they were not enough to keep his own thoughts grounded. His mind wandered back to the duel he had had with Eragon only a few days ago, and once again, he went over everything they had discussed.

He relived the mix of emotions, from anger, to hope, to fear...

His gaze went to Thorn, and he watched his dragon as he lay in slumber, for the moment free of the reality of his life. For a moment, sorrow almost overwhelmed him, a sorrow he had forced himself to abandon a while ago. The encounter with his brother had brought it back. The doubt he had in his existence, the hope that it could somehow be different, was all rekindled by Eragon. And he wasn't enjoying it.

The rap that came to his door was barely audible from that distance. Quietly, he left the balcony, taking once last glimpse at Thorn before he made his way through his chambers. He went to the door and pulled it open without hesitance. After all, he knew who would be there for him.

He was greeted by a soft smile, and the elder woman's warm gaze. The healer Zuriel stood in his doorway, garbed in her heavy black robe and hunter green dress. She was as calm and as collected as ever, though he could see the relief in her eyes.

Murtagh returned her smile weakly, as she remembered her place and bowed to him. Thinking nothing of the gesture, he stepped aside to allow her in.

"You're back," she stated, looking him up and down, obviously for any sign of injury, "How did you fair?"

"Not well," he answered quickly, turning away from her. He slowly made his way back to the balcony, the healer following a step behind him. Once they were out in the open, he faced her again, leaning his back against the railing.

"So...I assume you didn't succeed?" she asked cautiously, sensing his mood, knowing he was troubled.

"No." If he _had_ succeeded, Zuriel would be among the first to know. No doubt she would have been called to attend to Eragon's injuries, just as she had been called to attend to his, all those months ago.

He felt her hand on his arm, and the touch pulled him from the daze he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. His thoughts had once again consumed him, and knowing him as well as she did, she knew he was troubled. For a moment, he contemplated telling her about his fight with Eragon, and about what was said between them. But he quickly tossed the idea aside, knowing that she would have no reason to keep that information from Galbatorix. He was, after all, her king, and any friendship she had with Murtagh could not supersede that.

Murtagh learned that a long time ago.

"Were either of you injured?" she inquired, looking at Thorn.

"Nothing I couldn't heal," he replied, taking her hand as she reached for his head, gently pushing it aside. "I'm fine."

He forced his thoughts aside for good, knowing it was unhealthy to dwell on them. What was, was. Hoping after things beyond your grasp was simply pointless.

"There is a reason I called you here," he said after a drawn out silence, "Galbatorix is sending me to Gil`ead, to discover the identity of a traitor there amongst their soldiers. You're probably aware that they've had serious casualties due to the Varden and approaching elves. They're in desperate need of a healer, and the king has given me permission to bring you along."

Zuriel was obviously shocked. "He has?"

He nodded. "We shouldn't be there too long. And you don't have to worry about getting hurt. If anything close to a battle breaks out, I'll make sure to protect you."

"I'm not worried," she said, gazing down at the floor, something strange in her eyes, "Only surprised. When do we leave?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, as soon as Thorn wakes." He gestured briefly to the dragon.

Despite what she said, Murtagh could tell she looked a bit uneasy.

"I suppose I should go gather my things then," she said.

"Meet me back here when you're ready, and bring everything with you."

She nodded, looking distant for a moment. She offered him one last affectionate rub on his arm, then turned to leave the balcony. Murtagh watched her walk away, surprised when she suddenly stopped and turned back to him. She was smiling warmly, "I'm glad you made it back alright, Murtagh."

He smiled as well, the gesture more genuine than the last one he attempted. With that, she turned and left the balcony for good, leaving Murtagh to wait with Thorn till she returned.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review. *nervous smile***


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: My sister found the title of this story very amusing... -_-**

**Thanks for all the reviews! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

Murtagh finished putting the last of his armour into the saddle bags, Thorn watching the entire process absently, waiting patiently for the task to be completed. Murtagh double checked all his provisions, making sure he had everything he needed for his journey to Gil`ead. It was relatively a short distance from there to Uru'baen, but the Rider wanted to make sure he didn't have need for anything while there.

_I'm anxious to leave,_ Thorn said, his ruby eyes following Murtagh as he moved away from him.

"I know," he replied. He, too, had grown to loath the walls of his own chambers.

He heard the knock on his bedroom door again, but this time he remained on the balcony, leaving the servant girl to open the door. He waited patiently for Zuriel, mentally following the feel of her consciousness as she wove through his chambers and came to the balcony again. She was now dressed for travel, two large bags slung over her shoulders, another smaller bag resting against her hip. She looked from Murtagh to Thorn, bowing to the dragon briefly.

Thorn was amused by her show of respect, wondering why she even bothered.

"I had the servants prepare my steed," she told Murtagh.

His brow furrowed in confusion, as he made sure all the straps on Thorn's saddle were secure. "Why?"

"Why else? How am I supposed to get to Gil`ead?"

Smiling, amused, Murtagh said, "Thorn will take us there."

Zuriel shook her head, caught completely caught off guard. "Oh no, I couldn't," she said. Murtagh didn't think he had ever seen her so flustered before. He himself had threatened the woman with death more than once, and even then, she hadn't looked this upset. This woman was always strong, so in control of her emotions. He enjoyed seeing her not so composed.

"I'd be pointless for you to take a horse. It's only the two of us, and it would take you at least twice as long to get there. Thorn will have us there in half the time."

"But...he's _your_ dragon. I couldn't...I-"

_It's fine, Zuriel,_ Thorn's thoughts interrupted her own, laced with the same amusement as Murtagh's. _You need not worry. I am willing, and very capable of carrying you both._

"But I-" she stopped her protests as Murtagh went up to her, pulling the bags off her shoulders without a word. He carried them over to Thorn, and placed them in the saddlebags along with his own things. He then turned back to the healer, offering her a confident smile while taking her by the hand.

"Come on," he said, seeing beyond all her protests, knowing what all of this was about, "You have nothing to be afraid of."

She swallowed nervously, her grip tight on his hand. "I don't enjoy heights."

He shook his head, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry. Thorn won't let you fall."

He slowly pulled her forward, her feet unwillingly carrying her to the crimson dragon. The healer had no trepidation when it came to Thorn, even now that he was considerably larger than before. She had always been comfortable around him, since the day he had hatched, but seeing her now, one would think she was mortally frightened by the dragon. Murtagh held her reassuringly, leading her to Thorn's left foreleg, where she could climb onto his back.

Thorn flattened himself as much as possible so that she would have an easy time mounting him. She sat herself on the saddle, looking awkward and uncomfortable. Murtagh followed up right after her, his climb on the dragon experienced and effortless. He sat himself behind her, making sure she rested comfortably against him. Through the splits in her dress, her fastened the straps around her legs, making sure they weren't too tight against the leggings. His arms surrounded her as he gripped the large spike before them.

"Relax," he said softly.

She nodded, but he doubted she would follow his advice. She rested back against him, gripping his arms uncomfortably tight as Thorn rose to his feet, shifting as he prepared for his flight.

_Easy now,_ Murtagh told him in his mind.

Thorn acknowledged him, before crouching low and expanding his wings. With one downward thrust, they were airborne, flying from the balcony and away from the palace. Zuriel's grip only tightened on his arms, so much that he felt her fingernails through the fabric of his shirt. Though it was uncomfortable, it made him smile. She pressed her body back against his chest, shaking against him as she surveyed the ground below, amazed and frightened.

Murtagh simply enjoyed the moment, basking in the freedom of the skies. He concentrated on her presence against him, at her hair whipping against his face, on the emotions that were born from her first flight.

Thorn's wings beat rhythmically, the noise lulling as they soared through the cool air. With a simple spell, Murtagh averted the wind beating against them, softening the ride. Eventually, he felt the woman relax against him, her grip loosening.

Together, they traveled from Uru'baen to Gil`ead, leaving the capital behind and soaring over the empty fields between. The quiet night bore them onward, their ride peaceful and enjoyable, an oddity in the life Murtagh now lived.

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><p>It was just before dawn when the city of Gil`ead became visible. By then, their flight was nothing more than a peaceful ride. Zuriel had relaxed to the point where she actually enjoyed it. Most of the journey had been in silence, which neither of them minded. They were both tired, both uncertain about what awaited them. Murtagh wasn't anxious about his mission here, but something about it still hadn't settled right.<p>

As the city was just before them, Thorn banked lower, the air around them warming as they descended. The sun was rising over the outer edge of the city, illuminating the many bodies below-both soldier and civilian alike. As they circled above, Murtagh examined the crowd from a distance, both visually and mentally. He felt a mix of fear and relief come over the people below. A Dragon Rider was a terrifying sight, but then again, this Dragon and Rider were here to help them.

Most of the people were unaware of his mental probing. The few who were aware harmlessly shied away. Only three blocked him out adamantly, three who he deduced were the last of the army's magicians.

Thorn landed in a clearing just outside the border of the city, amongst the crowd of soldiers who were all watching in awe and wonder. Murtagh scanned over them all, looking for their captain.

He dismounted Thorn first, helping Zuriel down after him. The healer straightened out her hair and clothes, still looking composed as ever, even with the hundreds of eyes that were watching them. Amongst the crowd, someone finally stepped forward. It was an older gentlemen with a hard look in his eyes and a graying beard. He nodded curtly to Murtagh.

"My name is Jaeger, I'm the captain here, Rider. Welcome to Gil`ead."

Murtagh returned his nod, "Thank you."

"I'm glad you're here. We've suffered many casualties lately, and with the approaching Elven army, I'm afraid the soldier's morale will only worsen. Having you here...Well let's just say, it's a most welcome visit."

"I've also brought a healer," Murtagh said, reaching out for Zuriel, drawing her to his side, "I heard you have many injured here."

"That we do."

"If you could take me to them," Zuriel ventured, "I'm eager to help."

"Of course," Jaeger said. He gestured to the young man immediately to his right, and the soldier stepped forward, "Show the healer the way."

"Yes, captain," he replied. The young man bowed to Murtagh and Zuriel briefly, "If you'll follow me."

Zuriel glanced at Murtagh, before turning and following the soldier through the crowd. Murtagh watched her leave, before turning his attention back to the captain. "Is there a place we may talk in private?" he asked bluntly, "There are things we need to discuss."

"Of course," Jaeger replied, gesturing behind him. The soldiers immediately parted for the captain and Murtagh as they walked through, and they drew even further away as Thorn followed. The red dragon glanced at the faces left and right, amused by all of their reactions.

The captain led them through the outer edge of the city, and Murtagh looked the place over, not finding anything worth scrutinizing. Gil`ead's army seemed well managed and taken care of. But of course, even a well managed army was vulnerable to attacks, especially when magic was involved.

Jaeger eventually took him inside a large building, where many soldiers were either stationed or being given new orders. Thorn was forced to stay outside and wait while Murtagh was taken to a room deeper inside, where there was only one other soldier present. The captain sent him away, and Murtagh quickly put wards around the walls.

"So what is it, Dragon Rider?" the captain asked bluntly, as he settled into the chair behind his desk, "What's the real reason the king has sent you here? I know it's certainly for more than a morale boost."

Murtagh smiled at his bluntness, and at how observant he was. "Galbatorix has reason to believe their is a traitor among your men. Information is being given to the Varden, and he sent me here to stop it."

"I see," Jaeger said, placing his fist against his chin and pondering the information for a moment. "If there is anyway I can help you, please let me know. This is a blight upon my men, one which I am eager to get rid of. I won't have the honor of this army ruined because of one dishonorable vermin."

Murtagh listened to his words with a detached air. "Have your men not sworn loyalty to the king?"

"No, many of them haven't. Most of these men fight to defend their home. The magicians are sworn to the king, and the previous healers. Also a few of the captains, including myself."

"I wish to speak with the magicians immediately."

The captain nodded. "I can send for Dallan and Edana, but Jasper has gone into the city and won't be back until this evening."

"Very well," he said, turning from the captain and absently looking around the room, "Send for the two. I wish to find the traitor as soon as possible."

_And leave here as soon as possible._

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><p><strong>AN: Please review. ^_^**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry this is late. I've been crazy busy of late...**

**Enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

It was late that night when Murtagh went to find Zuriel. He had a soldier take him to the infirmary, and from there he learned where the healer had gone. She had been given quarters for the night, after doing all she could for the time being. Murtagh was taken to a room where she would be staying for the duration of his mission, not far from the quarters he had also been given. He dismissed his escort, then knocked softly on the door, hoping he wouldn't wake the woman if she were asleep.

He heard her voice from inside, telling him to enter.

He opened the door and peered inside, finding the healer hovering over a table, one of her traveling bags set on top of it. She was rummaging through it when he entered, but stopped briefly to greet him. She offered him a smile, the gesture looking heavy and strained. Upon first glance, he could tell she was exhausted. Her face was pale, and dark circles were beneath her eyes. No doubt she had expanded whatever energy she had in trying to help all the wounded.

Murtagh shut the door softly, and she drew away from her bag entirely. He spotted the tray of food on her bed. It was mostly eaten, yet for how much she consumed, she still looked weak. He wondered how far she had pushed herself, and if she had thought more of the wounded men than of herself.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded as she reached for the tray and moved it to the table. "Yes. I am only tired."

"You're exhausted. You should sleep."

She chuckled softly, "I know, Murtagh. Don't worry. I'm aware of my own limits."

He wasn't sure he was convinced, but decided not to press the subject. He took a step closer to her, as she went back to her bag and started unpacking. She transferred her clothing to the small wardrobe provided, setting aside the extra vials and containers her job dictated she bring. She was quiet as she worked, focused on her task and unaware that he was now standing behind her. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, willing his own store of energy to transfer from his body to hers. He felt the strength slowly flow from him.

In an instant, she turned about, knocking his hand from her shoulder. The sudden movement broke his concentration, stopping the flow. "What are you doing?" she demanded, looking angered.

"I'm just giving you some of my energy," he explained, bewildered.

"And did I ask you for any?"

"You're exhausted, Zuriel. I'm just trying to help you," he replied defensively.

"I would prefer it if you would not impose on me, Murtagh," she replied, no longer angry but stern. Her tone mellowed out completely by the end. "I am fine, and you need not worry about me. Besides, your energy would be put to much better use on the wounded men. There were many I could not heal today."

"By making sure you're alright, I am helping them," he countered cautiously. He had no desire to get in an argument, but he felt his logic should be heard. "If their only healer is too weak to help them..."

"I told you, I know my limitations."

"Very well. I won't _impose_ on you again. However, my offer still stands. I have plenty of energy, none of which I will be using tonight. It's yours, if you want it."

The healer looked him directly in the eye, smiling briefly. "What if you have to face this traitor? Won't you need all your energy?"

"I doubt I'll be facing him tonight," he said, taking a seat in the chair at the table. Zuriel resumed her previous work, "And if I did, I have plenty of energy between myself and Thorn and...It wouldn't be a problem." He held his hand out to her, palm up. "Please, healer. A Dragon Rider is offering you a gift."

She seemed amused by his formality. She stared at him for a long moment. "On one condition."

He sighed heavily. "What condition?"

"Visit the infirmary before retiring tonight. It would do the men good to see the king's only Rider is here to help them. After all, Galbatorix wants his Riders to be like the Riders of old, and the Riders of old took time to help people. Offering a few soldiers encouragement would be a good first step in establishing that."

Murtagh was a little surprised. "You actually believe Galbatorix when he says that?"

"It matters not what I believe, only what the people believe." She waited for his answer.

He glared at her flatly for a moment, before nodding his compliance. "Very well."

Satisfied, she laid her hand in his. He continued what he had started before, transferring his energy into her. He watched her face as her strength grew, the color returning to her skin and the light returning to her eyes. He could tell she didn't need as much as he gave her, but he felt better knowing she had more than enough. When he was finished, she slipped her hand from his and offered him a slow nod. "Thank you, Murtagh."

Re-energized, she returned to her work once more, going about it with more speed and vigor. Murtagh watched her all the while with a detached interest, not really sure why he remained, yet knowing there was no place else for him to go. Thorn was outside the city tonight, where he could have more freedom to fly and move around, and where people wouldn't be crowding him. Murtagh could sense him, even from their distance, but he preferred being in his presence.

Another reason he wanted this mission over with.

"So how goes your hunt for the traitor?" she asked him.

He was about to answer her when a knock on the door interrupted him. Zuriel pulled away from the table and went to answer it. He watched her pull the door open, finding a young man in a dark cloak standing in the doorway. An odd smile was on his pale face, a scar on his left cheek twisted strangely from the gesture. Without warning, he rushed Zuriel, throwing his arms around her and taking her in a tight embrace.

Murtagh rose from his chair, alarmed by the mental barriers the young man had around his mind. The Rider was thrown off his concentration though, as the feelings of joy and relief filled the room - coming not from the stranger but from Zuriel.

She returned the man's embrace more intensely than he gave it, and when they parted, she wore a smile Murtagh had never seen before. A smile he might not have even thought she was capable of. "Jasper," was all she said. She took the young man by the face, before looking him up and down.

Murtagh cleared his throat, the noise catching their attention. Zuriel looked back at him, smiling bashfully as she took the man by his hand and pulled him further into the room. He looked upon Murtagh with wide eyes, looking a bit in awe-struck.

"Jasper the magician, I presume," the Rider said.

The pale man nodded.

"Jasper, this is Murtagh son of Morzan, the Dragon Rider," she introduced, and the magician bowed in respect, "Murtagh, this is Jasper, my son."

The shock of her words knotted his stomach. He looked at them both in wonder, not sure he comprehended her right. "Your son?"

She nodded, her eyes full of admiration as she looked back to Jasper, stroking his arm affectionately.

"I heard from the soldiers that you were here," Jasper said, turning to his mother, "It's been so long. I had to come see you. And it is an honor, Dragon Rider, to meet you. Word of the king's loyal servant spreads far."

Murtagh tried not to let the words "loyal servant" get to him.

"Why are you here?" Jasper asked his mother, once again ignoring the Rider, "You're supposed to be at the palace."

"I accompanied Murtagh on his quest here," she answered, "Gil`ead is in a need of a healer."

"It's dangerous. The elves are closing in on Ceunon, any day they could turn their attention here."

"You worry too much, Jasper," she replied, a note of laughter in her voice.

Murtagh wondered who the woman before him was. He had never seen this side of Zuriel. Ever. Even when she smiled, there wasn't any joy behind the gesture, not like there was now. She stared at the magician with love and affection, and a devotion he knew, no matter how long he lived, would never be directed toward him.

_Murtagh?_ Thorn's thoughts cut through his mind, _Has something happened?_

_I'm fine,_ he replied.

"I've been waiting to speak with you, Jasper," he said, interrupting their conversation, "I'm here to seek answers for the king."

"Murtagh, couldn't it wait till morning?" Zuriel asked, turning to him, "I haven't seen Jasper in years."

"Mother," Jasper said, "He has his duty."

"No, it's alright," Murtagh conceded, making his way around the both of them, closer to the door, "What does a few hours matter anyway?"

She offered him her thanks, though her eyes only lingered on him for a moment.

"I'll speak with you in the morning, Jasper." With that, he turned and left the room. He went the direction of the infirmary, to fulfill the agreement they had, though at the moment, he had the overwhelming desire not to.

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><p><strong>AN: Notice the line where the lame title came from? LOLOL**

**Please review. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR<strong>

It was the next morning. Murtagh sat in the commander's station, the room empty. He gazed out the window at the dreary sky, wondering if this day would be more productive than the last. Thorn's content thoughts wafted down to him from his place in the sky, where he circled far overhead. The Rider wished he could be out there with him, instead of in this room.

The door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his attention as Jasper stepped inside, the magician calm and virtually expressionless. He offered a bow, as Murtagh gestured for him to close the door. Jasper stepped closer to him, a fleeting smile touching his features. "Reporting as requested, Rider."

He only acknowledged him with a simple nod.

"May I inquire what this is about? What interest the king's loyal servant has in me?"

"I have reason to believe there's a traitor among the army here in Gil`ead," he answered plainly, "I'm questioning all the magicians, and anyone else who may be of interest. It also may be necessary for me to enter your mind."

He noticed the young magician visibly stiffen, his eyes darting about the floor uncomfortably. He eventually met his eyes again, erect and composed, "I have nothing to hide from the king, and he has nothing to fear from me. I have already sworn fealty to the Galbatorix, many years ago."

"I know," he replied, "Still, there may be information you can give me that can be helpful, even if you aren't aware of its significance."

"I'll help you in any way I can."

"Good," he said, nodding, "Then we can avoid any unpleasant actions."

Murtagh gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk, signaling for him to sit down. Jasper complied, though Murtagh remained standing. For a moment, he examined the young magician, looking for any similarities between him and his mother. Jasper was probably a few years older than he was, though not as tall or strong. His hair was a shade darker than Zuriel's, his face a different shape entirely. Yet in all of that, there was something of his mother. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself. Perhaps it was the way he looked at him.

"How long have you been with the army here?" he began.

"I've served in this garrison for many years, since I was fifteen, when I first began my service to the king."

Murtagh was a bit surprised by his words, but kept that surprise hidden. "You know these men well then. Have you noticed anything suspicious among them? Any of them?"

Jasper shook his head, "No."

"Can you think of anyone you may suspect? Anyone that may have reasons for betraying the king?"

Jasper shrugged, "I can't think of anyone. But there are many people here, and many with different reasons why they may betray Galbatorix...whether it be for revenge, greed, or simply a desire to do what they believe is right."

"Yes," he said with a sigh. He hadn't believed that his mission here would be an easy one, but he had hoped the magicians would at least give him something more to go on. Dallan and Edana had offered nothing of value, and even now, Jasper seemed as ignorant as the rest of them. Gil`ead's army was made up of hundreds, if not thousands. He could investigate for years and still not find this traitor.

"May I ask you a question, Rider?" Jasper ventured.

Murtagh had fallen into silence, which had lasted for over a minute while he pondered his predicament. It was no surprise the other man ventured to speak. "Alright."

"I've traveled around a lot these last few years...and I've heard many things. Many rumours. Some of them about you."

Murtagh looked back out the window, watching the city outside. "And what were they?"

"They said you had joined the Varden, that you had turned against everything your father and the king stood for. I am only curious, is this true?"

Murtagh smiled dryly, crossing his arms. "My loyalty is now to the king...no matter where I may have been before."

A very light smile ghosted across his lips. "It _is_ true then?"

Murtagh turned his eyes to him. "It's true."

"How then can you seek out a traitor to bring him to justice, when you are but a traitor yourself? To both sides?"

Murtagh stared at him long and hard, not appreciating what he was saying. "My loyalty is to the king."

"I see then." Jasper turned from him, absently stroking his chin in deep thought. "Not the king's loyal servant...but the king's loyal slave."

The words angered Murtagh, and he would have lashed out at the Magician, if the words were said in mockery or disdain. However, Jasper merely uttered them, as if fascinated, if not a little disappointed. The magician suddenly lifted his head, looking directly at Murtagh. "My mother...how close are you with her?"

Murtagh wondered how this interrogation had suddenly turned around. "She's just an acquaintance."

Jasper seemed to see through his lie, but didn't question it. Murtagh wondered if his and Zuriel's relationship was really that obvious. Galbatorix could see it, but then again, Galbatorix knew everything about him.

Zuriel was close to him, though it was hard to admit it, even to himself. She had been in his mind more than once, she had healed him countless times, and been there for him when there was no one else. He cared about her, and Thorn cared about her - she was there for the dragon when Murtagh couldn't be. Through all of that, even through the times he hated her, how could she be only an acquaintance?

"The king values her," he said in the end, and, in an attempt to fix his lie, added, "I value her."

Jasper accepted his words with a nod. "Then please take care of her. If a battle does come to Gil`ead, I wouldn't want her in the midst of it."

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><p>Murtagh watched Zuriel from a distance. She didn't seem to notice he was there, or if she did, didn't bother to acknowledge him. Her work was too important for her. She worked about the many cots, offering aid and medicine and words of encouragement to the wounded men. Every so often, she would stop completely and utter the magic words, healing a wound permanently. Though she weakened, she would continue on.<p>

The number of men among the cots had dwindled in these past few days. Zuriel was mostly responsible for that, even though Murtagh couldn't help but heal a couple men when he visited the infirmary a couple nights back. Even today, as he walked through the beds, and people marveled at him and offered words of respect, it felt wrong ignoring them. After all, these men were just like him. Most weren't fighting because they wanted to.

Zuriel finally looked his way. She met his eyes briefly and smiled, before going to another man on a cot and giving the soldier some medicine. She sat by him for a minute, making sure he needed nothing else. She rose again and slowly made her way to Murtagh, glancing left and right at her charges. "Good evening," she said with a nod of her head.

He returned the gesture. "I came to see if you could use any help."

She looked around the room again, "Things are well. There hasn't been an attack or raid for many days now, and most of the men here have already healed."

"That's good."

She turned back to him. "How about you? How goes your work?"

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Not well."

He turned away from her and found a seat on one of the clean, empty cots. Zuriel followed him, taking a seat beside him and inviting him to speak. For a moment, he said nothing. He only watched the infirmary in its state of silence. It was late out now, and most were asleep. None were calling for the healer's attention. For the moment, she was all his.

"Have you spoken with Jasper?" she asked.

"Yes. Unfortunately, he knew no more than the other magicians. I fear this errand Galbatorix sent me on is a senseless one."

"Don't despair," she encouraged, taking his hand, "I'm sure you'll find your answer."

He met her eyes, studying her kind and tired gaze. "How come you never told me you had a son?" he asked, figuring this was as good a time as any to sate his curiosity. A brief smile touched Zuriel's lips, but it wasn't a joyous smile. It was tight, constrained, and he could tell by the way she turned from him, she was uncomfortable.

"I don't make idle conversation out of my son," she answered, her gaze down at nothing, "But if you had asked about my family, I would have told you."

Murtagh pondered her words for a moment. Keeping one's weaknesses hidden was a common strategy. Zuriel did have enemies within the palace, including the late Twins. He had seen them threaten her himself, and had no doubt they would have used her son against her, if given the opportunity.

"Does Galbatorix know he's your son?"

"Of course he knows," she replied.

"Then...are you married?"

She met his gaze again finally. "I was. His name was Jonah. He died when Jasper was only ten years old. He was a soldier in the king's army, and was killed in an unfortunate incident by one of his own comrades. It was an accident, of course. My son and I were in Uru'baen when I got the news, and to this day I regret that I was not at his side to tend his injuries...to save his life." She drifted into memory for a moment, her brown eyes gazing into the past.

"Jasper stayed at my side through all of his childhood, watching his mother, learning from her. He picked up the arts of magic when he was young...far too young for my liking. When he was only fifteen, Galbatorix saw what promise he had, and drafted him into his service. He's worked for him ever since, and I've only seen him scarcely in these past seven years."

"I see..." he murmured.

She smiled softly, one of her foreign smiles. "I'm very proud of my son."

"Even though he kills? Even though he brings about the very thing you strive to ward off every day?"

She drew away from him, repulsed by what he said. "We both know our duty, Murtagh. What we do, we do for the good of the empire."

"I'm sorry. I just thought you would have been more repulsed by Galbatorix using your son to bring about more pain and suffering."

"I'm grateful to the king for giving my son and I a life we could have never had on our own. After my husband died, my service to the king made sure my son was fed and cared for. That is why I will always be loyal to Galbatorix."

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><p><strong>AN: Please review. XD**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FIVE<strong>

The air was pleasantly warm, even this high in the sky. Murtagh let himself enjoy the moment, forgetting about his mission. He put everything off to take this leisurely flight with Thorn, knowing there weren't many moments they could enjoy together, alone, without being under the watchful eye of their master. He'd find their traitor eventually, and taking a few hours to clear his mind would make little difference in the long run.

He and Thorn barely spoke on their flight. They simply let each other's presence comfort them, and they basked in the mutual trust and loyalty they would never share with another.

_You've been bothered lately,_ Thorn's thoughts came to him, breaking the silence.

Murtagh opened his eyes, looking at the red dragon's head, contrasted by the white clouds of the sky.

_This whole mission bothers me,_ he replied.

Thorn angled to the left, swooping to snatch a bird between his powerful jaws. The white mass of feathers was gone in an instant, trapped between the dragon's teeth. _It's more than that._

_I don't know what you mean._

_You can't lie to me,_ Thorn said, _Is it Zuriel? Did you fight with her again?_

_You say that as if we fight all the time._

_I never know when your temper will get the better of you._

Murtagh scoffed and shook his head. For a while, Thorn let the currents in the air carry him without any struggle.

_So what is it then?_ his companion pressed.

_It's just..._

Murtagh cut his thoughts short, throwing up every mental barrier he had ever learned to construct in an instant. He felt the invading thoughts probe at his mind, attempting to get access. He fought them off with his full force, throwing his own consciousness back at them to determine who it was. He relaxed a bit when he realized it was Dallan. Slowly, he lowered his defenses enough for them to speak to one another.

_What is it?_ he demanded.

_Forgive me for my intrusion, Rider, but King Galbatorix has contacted us. He's requesting to speak with you._

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><p>Murtagh made his way into the commander's station, stopping in the doorway when he spotted the commander kneeling in the center of the room. He was facing a mirror set against the wall, his head bowed in reverence. Murtagh didn't have to guess who was on the other end of the mirror, who Jaeger was relaying information to. He finished what he was saying, then lifted his head and turned his attention to the Rider.<p>

Without another word, he rose to his feet, backing away from the mirror. He offered Murtagh a curt nod before leaving the room. The commander shut the door behind him, leaving Murtagh alone with the mirror.

With a quick incantation, the walls were once again impervious to eavesdropping. Murtagh slowly stepped in front of the mirror, gazing at the image of his master looking back at him. He sunk to his knees, dipping his head.

"What is it, my lord?"

"Murtagh...have you made any progress?" he asked, his black eyes boring into him, even from the miles that separated them.

"I'm sorry, I have not."

Galbatorix smirked, the displeasure clear in his eyes. But for some reason, he wasn't angry. "You need not toil any longer, Morzansson. My spies within the Varden have given me the name of the traitor."

Murtagh's eyes widened in surprise. Would this really be over that easily? "Who is it?"

The king stared at him long and hard, and the smirk on his lips grew by a fraction. "It's the magician Jasper."

Murtagh's surprise only grew, his stomach sinking. For a moment, he simply sat there, trying to comprehend everything, going through the many questions in his mind, knowing what this information inevitably meant for him. And what it meant for Zuriel.

"Are you certain, my lord?" he asked, trying not to appear shaken.

"I am certain."

"But he's sworn fealty to you...how can he possibly betray you?"

"Do not question me," Galbatorix snapped, the anger visible in his eyes, though he contained himself outwardly.

Murtagh bowed his head again, "Yes, my lord...What would you have me do then?"

"I'm ordering you to break the traitor. Bring him before me, and if you cannot accomplish that, I want you to destroy his mind, tearing out every bit information about the Varden that you can."

He swallowed hard, keeping his head bowed to avoid looking at his eyes. "Yes, my lord."

"Swear it to me," he commanded.

Denied the will to refused him, Murtagh repeated his orders in the Ancient Language, promising him that he would fulfill them. He now had no other choice.

"Contact me again when you've succeeded," Galbatorix finished. Without another word, the image of his master faded from the mirror. Murtagh was left staring at his own reflection, at his own uncertain eyes, at his visibly shaken self.

He composed himself, swallowing against the lump in his throat as he rose to his feet. He left the mirror and opened the door, facing the two guards who were stationed outside. They turned to him and saluted, ready to follow his command.

"Bring me Jasper the Magician."

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><p>Murtagh stood before Zuriel's door, reluctant to knock on it, reluctant to face her. Though he wanted nothing more than to run from this place, he knew he had to tell her. It was her right to know.<p>

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and rapped his knuckle against the wood. Thorn's reassuring presence was in his mind, giving him strength as well as urging him to hurry. They couldn't afford to wait much longer.

Zuriel pulled the door open, not surprised to find him there. She didn't offer him a greeting, only smiled as she stepped aside to let him in, as she usually did. Murtagh stepped inside, watching her in her ignorance, knowing there was no way she could be aware of the situation. Jasper wouldn't have been foolish enough to tell her.

"What is it?" she asked, her mood dampening when she sensed his own.

Unable to look at her, he turned to the medicine on the table, absently stalking the length of the room. "Have you seen your son?" he asked.

"He came by yesterday...why?"

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No," she answered, still confused, "Is he not within the city?"

Murtagh finally looked back at her, meeting her gaze out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to finally understand something was wrong, her body shaken, her features tense. "Murtagh?" she asked, "What is it? Where is Jasper?"

He faced her fully, meeting her fearful gaze. "Your son has committed treason against the king. He's the traitor I've been looking for, a spy for the Varden."

For a moment, the healer just stood there, as if she didn't understand the words coming from his mouth. "You're wrong," she simply said, "It's not him. It couldn't be him."

He looked away from her again, closing his eyes briefly as he fought to keep himself calm, to stifle his pain. "It is him, Zuriel".

The healer adamantly shook her head, disbelieving. "My son has sworn fealty to the king, I was there! It's not possible!"

"It is possible," he replied with a whisper. "Galbatorix told me himself."

"He's wrong!" she snapped, overcome with her fear. Murtagh watched her carefully crafted composure slip away from her, watched her become the frightened, helpless woman he thought he would never see. She closed the gap between them with a single step, grasping the Rider firmly by the arms. "Jasper wouldn't do this."

"He's gone missing. What other reason would he have for fleeing?" he replied, his voice void of emotion.

She was without the words to answer him, and only shook her head. Her gaze fell, her eyes clouded with her emotions. He watched her, overwhelmed with his own pity, wondering how life could be so ironically unjust.

"Zuriel," he said softly, "You know what I have to do."

Her eyes went wide, her lips fumbling for words to speak. "Murtagh..."

He stepped back from her, forcing her clutching fingers to detach from his arms. For a moment, they simply gazed at each other. When he could no longer bear her stare, he turned away, making his way for the door.

"Please!" she called, grabbing him by his arm and pulling him back, "Please don't do this." She drew into him, exhibiting a desperation he couldn't fathom. "I beg you, have mercy on him. He's my only son."

"You of all people know that I cannot," he said, coldly pushing her back. She pulled away from him completely, stumbling a bit, looking upon him as if she saw a stranger. Tears glistened her eyes, but they would not fall. "I have my orders," he stated, "If Jasper will not repent, I will kill him."

The words struck her as if they were a knife. Murtagh turned from her one last time and left the room, closing the door sharply after himself. He expected her to follow, to continue to plea for her son's life. But she did neither, as he was left in the silent hallway, faced with his task.

_Murtagh?_ Thorn called for him.

He balled his fists, and took in a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, burying down all his emotions, he left Zuriel's room, ready to fulfill his orders.

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><p><strong>AN: I wonder if anyone saw that coming... :/**

**Please review. ^_^**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry this is a little late. I was away on vacation, then when I got back, life decided to bug me a bit. -_-**

**I've decide to make this story a little longer than I originally intended. But just a little. ;)**

**So, enjoy...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX<strong>

Thorn circled high in the sky, intent on their prey far below. From this distance, the man was no more than a speck on the ground, his gray horse bearing across the land with a speed that could never compete for a dragon. The two of them took a moment to simply watched him, Thorn's wings rigid, letting the currents carry them on its own. They were silent, for neither really had to speak. They simply had a job to do, and exchanging words about it would change nothing...even though he could sense that Thorn had things he wanted to say.

With an unspoken confirmation, the dragon angled downward, carrying them at a fast speed toward the ground. They cut through the cloud's, with wind rushing past them violently, as the speck on the ground continued to grow in size.

Thorn let out a terrifying growl, the noise shaking the earth below.

The gray horse came to a sudden stop, rearing in fear. Thorn drew upward as they came to the ground, leveling them out as the dust from below blew up in their wake. The red dragon, landed just before the horse, his powerful jaws opening once more and shrieking at their prey.

The horse violently thrashed in its moment of panic, throwing Jasper from its back. The magician landed roughly on the ground, the horse crying out loudly as it bolted from its place, fleeing in terror.

Thorn unleashed a smoldering stream of fire, directing the blaze at the ground before Jasper. The magician quickly pulled himself to his feet, casting aside his cloak and drawing further away from the fire.

Murtagh leapt from Thorn's back, landing on the ground just beside his companion. Thorn closed his jaws and stopped the fire, leaving the ground between them to smoke. If there had been more than dried dirt beneath their feet, the blaze might have held, erecting a barrier between them.

The magician faced Murtagh directly, his gray eyes serious and determined, showing no signs of fear or retreat. Murtagh stepped so that he was directly before him, his hand on Zar'roc's hilt. For a moment, they just stared at one another. Murtagh experimentally felt around the other man's defenses, trying to determine how hard it would be to break his mind.

A gust of wind blew the smoke from between them, the only noise so far out in the wilderness.

Jasper's heavy breathing mellowed out, his serious demeanor breaking with an ironic smile. "Somehow...I had a feeling this would happen," the magician spoke.

Murtagh drew Zar'roc from its sheath, the red blade shining in the sunlight. Jasper drew himself up higher.

"You've committed treason against the king," Murtagh recited lifelessly, "Galbatorix wants retribution."

Jasper's hand grasped the sword at his side. He drew the long sturdy blade, holding it expertly, facing his opponent without a trace of fear in his eyes. He lifted his sword, pointing the tip toward the Rider's chest.

"The Varden were born from Galbatorix's madness. It lives because the peace he offers the world is a lie. If I am destroyed here, know that there are others who will take my place within the Empire, and know that we will never be gone until Galbartorix is pulled from his throne!"

"You do not need to convince me of that," he replied tightly.

"Those words are for Galbatorix, when he eventually pulls this encounter from your mind," he replied, a ferocity in his eyes that seemed uncharacteristic of the man he had met before, "I want him to know that I am not alone, and that when I die here, he will have no victory."

Murtagh didn't reply at first. He simply watched the magician, in all his confidence and resolve.

"By the time you're dead...Galbatorix will have the names of every one of Varden's agents of whom you know."

"You will not have my mind, Murtagh," Jasper replied.

"I have my orders," he replied, "And I cannot defy them."

"Can't you?"

The words were challenging, and sparked the memory of his last encounter with Eragon. He forced his thoughts back again, knowing they would only distract him. He spun Zar'roc around in his hand.

He waited till he knew he could wait no longer, then charged the magician, throwing all of his strength into his first strike. He simultaneously gathered all of the power in his mind, slamming his own consciousness into Jasper's mental barriers.

Jasper deflected his blow effortlessly, his mind just as skilled in keeping out his mental attacks. He drew back from the Rider, his sword out at his side and ready to fend off another strike. Murtagh followed after him, striking upward, knocking his sword to the side momentarily. The magician swerved out of the way, just missing the tip of Zar'roc as he swiped at him, cutting through the dry air.

Murtagh advanced on him again, throwing his mind against his with more force, keeping a constant attack on his barriers while physically battling him. It was never an easy way to fight, but he had mastered the technique during his training. Galbatorix himself had taught him how it was done, and that was the reason he knew he would emerge victorious in the end. No matter how hard he fought, and no matter how long it took him, Jasper could never win.

Murtagh was forced to step back as Jasper took a fury-driven swing at him. His sword clashed against the Rider's blade, the force of the strike reverberating up Murtagh's arms. He turned the attack around and forced all his weight against Jasper, knocking aside his blade and forcing him to back up again. He swung at him left and right, forcing the magician to dance out of his way. He moved swiftly, just enough to avoid the blade.

He struck upward at Murtagh, their blades clashing again. Murtagh forced his sword down, taking the opportunity to kick the other man in the stomach. Jasper stumbled and fell back, crashing into the hard dirt. He quickly rolled himself over, rising back to his feet just as Murtagh attacked him again. His sword was held desperately and awkwardly as he endeavored to stand steadily and block his blows at the same time. Murtagh took advantage of his lack of composure, and doubled the attacks on his mind.

He could tell Jasper was struggling to keep his barriers. Murtagh could feel the cracks he was making, could tell the fingers of his own thoughts were making their way through, ready to probe his mind.

Jasper cried out in fury, charging at him again. Murtagh was forced on the defensive, stepping back while deflecting the blow. All the while, Thorn stalked behind him, knowing Murtagh's desire to handle this alone, but ready to intervene if necessary.

Murtagh saw an opportunity, and found a vulnerability in his attacks. He quickly stepped to the side and charged forward, swiping Zar'roc's blade along the magician's side. Jasper cried out in the pain. In that moment, Murtagh overpowered his defenses, breaking through one of the cracks as he was distracted.

The Rider was suddenly overwhelmed with his consciousness, bombarded by feelings and memories that were inconsequential and random. He was thrown back into Jasper's childhood, into the times that molded the man who he was now.

_He saw Zuriel, holding the young child in her arms, smiling down him, cradling him gently and affectionately. She laughed softly, stroking his head. "I love you..." she whispered._

Jasper regained his footing, holding the bleeding gash in his side. He took a moment to steady himself, while Murtagh was recovering from his shock. His teeth clenched in pain, Jasper faced Murtagh again, not about to give in. He struggled to keep whatever barriers he had in tact, while Murtagh continued to assail him.

_"Be strong," his father told him, stooping so that he was level with his height. Jasper stood proudly before him, resolved to be strong and not cry over the fact that his father was leaving them to go fight. He had always known it would be this way, but faced with it now, he wanted nothing more than for him to stay. _

_He nodded his reply, smiling as his father ruffled his hair. "I love you, son." It was the last time he ever saw him alive..._

Murtagh kicked Jasper once again, slamming his foot into his bleeding side. The magician cried out as he stumbled, drawing further away from him. Murtagh followed after him, lifting his sword high and bringing it down with all the force he could muster. Jasper lifted his sword, forced to let go of his wound and grip his blade with both hands. His blood-slicked fingers grabbed his hilt, his arms shaking as he warded off the attack.

_Jasper stood in a room, faced with the death of his father, over-whelmed with the feelings of fear, anger, and grief. He didn't know what he would do, who he would become, without his father to teach him. He lifted his head and looked to his mother, seeing her standing there, tears on her face though she remained quiet and strong._

_He went to her, wrapping his arms around her, both giving and receiving comfort. She was all he had left now, and he promised he would protect her._

Crying out, Murtagh swept Zar'roc to the side, cutting through the Magician's clothing, just nicking his skin. He went at him with all his speed and strength, resolved to end this, to stop the senseless cycle of emotions pouring through him. He blinked away the tears that had been unnecessarily provoked, as he attacked over and over again, striking his blade with more force than the other man could repel.

_He saw the field of slaughtered villagers, of men, women and children all dead for the carrion birds to devour. And he wondered what kind of a king he was now serving..._

Jasper crashed heavily on his back, his broken sword landing several meters away, crashing into the hard dirt. The magician breathed heavily, his blood dripping into the dirt beneath his body, his gray eyes still boring into the Rider.

Murtagh stepped over him, pointing the blood-covered tip of Zar'roc to his throat.

Against logic, he drew away from the magicians mind, leaving his own thoughts clear. He blinked away every trace of his tears and peered down at the broken man, overcome with confusion and anger.

"Why?" he demanded through clenched teeth, his voice unsteady over his emotions, betraying his faltering resolve. Jasper must have seen his struggle, for the hardness of his gaze softened just a little bit. "Why would you do this to your mother?" Murtagh asked, void of understanding. "She loves you."

"Is my mother's happiness more important than the people of Alagaesia?" Jasper asked.

The red blade shook in his hand, as Murtagh struggled with his duty. He had defeated him, there was no reason he had to die. "Galbatorix has ordered me to bring you before him," he announced, "Come with me, and spare your mother the pain of your death."

"Do you think the torture I will receive would be any less of a pain for her? A pain that you know, Morzansson, is worse than death."

Murtagh remembered clearly. The endless nights of torture and pain, of the Twins and Galbatorix tearing through his mind, of all the agony he had been forced to endure. Of the agony he was still enduring...

"Then repent to him," Murtagh said, "Ask for his forgiveness, swear fealty again, do whatever you have to to spare yourself and her this fate!"

"You ask me to freely give myself to a fate you yourself loath so much?"

"You have a mother who loves you. I would go through all of that again, if I could just have..." Murtagh faltered, catching himself before he said more. Closing his eyes, he reined in the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He heard Thorn shuffle behind him, his sympathy felt though their minds were blocked from one another. When he opened his eyes again, he found Jasper staring at him still, the anger gone from his face, replaced by a look he was familiar with - a look Zuriel often gave him.

"I think...I would have liked you for a friend, Murtagh...if our lives had turned out differently."

He could find nothing to reply with.

"I will not go to Galbatorix. I will not let him have my mind." The magician pushed himself up, struggling against his pain. Murtagh kept Zar'roc leveled with his neck, watching him closely, knowing what was bound to happen now. He had no choice, and his oath to Galbatorix had to be fulfilled. Once again, his only human friendship was about to be destroyed.

"My mother loves you," Jasper said unexpectedly, catching him off guard. "She will forgive you."

Murtagh shook his head. "Not after this."

The magician smiled softly, his eyes turning off to the distance. "That is why I will not put this on you." He gathered his strength and determination again, adapting the same fortitude he had when their encounter began. He faced the Rider, resolve in his gray eyes. "You made a promise to me, Dragon Rider, I expect you to keep it."

Murtagh suddenly understood what was happening, but could not act fast enough to stop it.

"_Jierda!"_

"No!"

With a snap, the magician fell back, crashing to the ground once again, his body lying still. Murtagh stood in shock, his mouth agape, the sword shaking in his hands. He let the blade slip, let it crash into the hard dirt before he sank to his knees, his eyes fixated on the young man's lifeless body.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, staring at him.

Thorn slowly walked closer to him, snaking his head down and placing his nose against the rider's back. Murtagh felt his consciousness meld with his own, felt his warmth and solidarity, his young mind grieved, yet strong where he was not. He said nothing, only offered the Rider silent company, as the wind howled in the distance, the only noise on the desolate area.

Murtagh felt tears in his eyes, tears he never expected to have shed. He clenched his fists, his anger and frustration and grief and despair all coming to the surface, as he let out one loud scream.

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><p><strong>AN: In my first outline for this story, that scene ended way differently. Heck, a lot of the chapters went way differently. Let's just say that Jasper was a bit of an ass...**

**I like nice Jasper a lot better, although it made this chapter harder to write. :(**

**Please review. ^_^**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry I made you all cry last chapter. :D :D :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVEN<strong>

He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. He simply watched her from a distance, his fists balled in anger, his jaw clenched tightly. She was at her station, doing the work she had devoted her life to. She continued to look after the few soldiers who were left in the infirmary, and even the common villagers who had made their way into the garrison upon learning a healer was near. She now took care of countless others, offering them what they couldn't find elsewhere.

She smiled down at a young child, stroking his head. She did that a lot, Murtagh observed. She must have known that sometimes, the greatest medicine a person could receive was a loving touch.

Zuriel pulled away from the child, turning toward the door. She froze in place when she noticed Murtagh standing there. Murtagh felt all his muscles tense. She swallowed hard, her eyes locked on his. She said nothing, she asked no questions, not even with her gaze. He was also silent, unable to force the words out, unable to tell her what she needed to know.

She drew herself up straighter, as if she understood. She turned away from him without a word, blinking her eyes rapidly as she looked back to the boy who was tugging at her skirt. She smiled. She actually managed a smile.

Her gaze was distant as she turned away from the boy, to head further inside. Without warning, she collapsed, falling to the floor in a motionless heap.

"Healer!" many people exclaimed in shock and concern, rushing to her side.

Murtagh was there before any of them, ushering them back as he lifted her from the floor, cradling her gently. She hung limply in his arms. "Zuriel!" he called worriedly, getting no response.

A tear leaked from beneath her eyelid, running down her face.

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><p>Murtagh walked the desolate land surrounding Gil`ead, leaving the city miles behind as he made his way toward the place where Thorn stayed. He walked without thought, letting his legs carry him with a purpose he had forgotten long ago. His eyes were to the ground at his feet, his hand rested habitually on Zar'roc's hilt. The sword suddenly felt like a great weight on his shoulders, a weight greater than his birthright, greater than his bond with Thorn, greater than anything before it.<p>

He truly was cursed.

A shadow colored the land around him as Thorn descended from the sky, coming to meet him half way. Murtagh made his way to a cluster of rocks nearby, taking a seat on one of the boulders. He rested his elbows on his knees, waiting patiently as the dragon slowly floated downward. Thorn landed with a dull thud, his eyes fixated on his Rider as he drew closer.

_Did you tell her?_ he asked, his tone laced with sympathy.

"I didn't need to," he replied, balling his fists together, "She knows what happened."

_No, she doesn't,_ Thorn said carefully, drawing closer, forcing him to lift his eyes. _She'll think you killed him._

"I did," Murtagh replied tightly, pulling himself from the rock and beginning to pace around the area.

_No, you didn't._

"I might as well have!" he snapped, facing his companion, the anger clear in his eyes. Thorn didn't reply. He sat himself down in front of his Rider, letting Murtagh fume as he continued his pacing.

He walked ten paces away, before suddenly stopping, then turning to face Thorn again. He couldn't pull Jasper from his mind, couldn't understand all of the things he had done for the Varden. Yes, Murtagh had joined them, but he had had nothing to lose. The only friend he had had was dead, and his life had offered nothing better. Jasper had everything. He had a family who loved him, and turned against them, all to overthrow an Empire that held the world together, no matter how corrupt it was.

Murtagh had nothing. The only family he had left hated him. The only human friend he had now hated him, too.

"It's wrong!" he snapped, turning back to Thorn, "This whole mission was wrong. It's as if Galbatorix knew, as if he planned this entire thing, just to torture me!"

_He couldn't make Jasper betray him._

"Couldn't he?" he replied, "He was his slave, why not?"

_Jasper believed in what he was doing, Galbatorix couldn't make him do that._

Murtagh fell silent again, his feet kicking up dirt as he walked.

_Jasper made the choice himself, you saw that when you looked into his mind. He was his own master, and whether Galbatorix orchestrated this or not, he wasn't victorious. Jasper made sure of it._

Murtagh looked at him through the long hair that veiled his face, but would not hold still.

Thorn continued. _He killed himself to spare you this, and to spare his mother at least a little pain, the pain of knowing you did it. He was right, Murtagh...Zuriel does care for you._

"She doesn't!" he snapped, facing the dragon once again, "She worships Galbatorix, and betrayed me to him the first chance she had! She just like the rest of them, who would rather put a sword through my back."

_That's not true._

"It is! It's the truth. No one ever cared."

Thorn's eyes softened further, his emotions sinking. He snaked his head closer. _I care about you._

Murtagh stopped, his anger quieting suddenly. He closed his eyes and dropped his head with a heavy sigh. What was he doing?

He crossed the space between him and Thorn, placing his hands on the dragon's neck as he rested his large head against his shoulder. He softly stroked his scales, his eyes off in the distance. " I know," he said softly.

For the longest time, they both stood there, alone in the silence. Murtagh drew comfort from Thorn, finding peace in the simple way he saw things, in the truth of what he was saying. He was glad, that no matter how twisted and messed up his entire existence was, at least he had Thorn - the one person who would never turn on him.

_You need to tell her,_ he said, breaking the silence of the moment.

Murtagh slowly drew away from him, breathing in deeply to banish his emotions. "I know. I will."

_And there is some comfort you can draw from this whole mess._

"What?" he asked.

_Galbatorix lost his control over Jasper, even though he was sworn to him...what Eragon told us is true._

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter was really difficult for me to write. I certainly hope Murty didn't come off as too emo there. O_o**

**I just think he needed to rant. And I was trying to find the correct way to make his inner thoughts and emotions come out in all that, without him getting too whiney. lol ****Anyway...**

**Please review. Let me know what you think. ^_^**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey everyone. :) I really have nothing to say here...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHT<strong>

Murtagh lifted his hand, rapping his knuckle against the wood. There was silence on the other side. He hadn't expected there to be a swift, inviting answer, but he wasn't about to leave. With more force, he knocked again. Once more, silence.

He wished Thorn could have fit in the hallway with him, and that he didn't have to do this alone. He could feel the dragon's presence, assuring him, urging him forward. Calming himself with a deep breath, he carefully pushed the door open. He cracked it just slightly, only enough to look through, unsure of what he would find. Zuriel stood at the far end of the room, looking directly at him. Her face was expressionless, but her unreadable stare frightened him.

She didn't invite him, but he entered her room anyway, closing the door behind himself.

Zuriel turned away, her attention going back to her medicines spread out on the table. She carefully tucked them back into her purse, clearing the table. He noticed her other bags packed by her feet, the room cleared of everything that was hers.

"You're leaving?" he realized.

She swallowed hard, as if it hurt her to speak. "My work here is done. There's no reason for me to stay."

His gaze fell to the floor, his mind looking for the words to say. He didn't know where to start, or what even needed to be said. He knew there was nothing left for her to do here. His work was also done, but he couldn't leave just yet. He originally hoped they would return to Uru'baen together, but he knew that was unlikely now. He just didn't want her to leave like this.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Is there something you need, Morzansson?" she asked, her gaze focused on her work. Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, the title she used striking a cord inside. He couldn't recall her ever calling him by it before. Not directly.

He faced her again, and his eyes were hard. "You have no right to be angry at me."

She turned to him, the emotion finally bleeding through into her eyes. "Excuse me?" she said.

"You are no different than I am. When I could have escaped, you turned me over to Galbatorix, knowing what he would do to me, knowing that you would force me into this life. You did your duty, just as I did mine. The only difference is that you did so willingly! You feed his madness by faithfully serving him, and by bringing on the death and destruction you claim to hate so much.

"You have no right to hate me, because I did not kill him. Galbatorix killed him."

Zuriel stared at him in shock, as if the words he spoke cut her like a sword never would. She clenched her jaw, remaining still, remaining calm, even though the tears built in her eyes. Her arms were quivering. "You don't think I know that?" she asked, her voice a soft hiss. "You don't think I know that _I_ am inevitably to blame here? That I was the one who delivered my son to Galbatorix's hands?

"I _hate_ him. I _hated_ him for what he did to you. But I told myself, 'Better that I am here, a force to counteract his violence. At least I can save some of the people who are hurt by his madness.' But I deluded myself. And it cost me my son."

A tear fell from her eye, rolling down her cheek silently. He watched her, speechless. Of all the things that could have been said to him, he hadn't expected those words to come from her mouth.

For a moment, he just stood there, processing it all. There was nothing he could say to her, nothing to counteract her logic. He couldn't bear her emotional gaze any longer, and looked away. "I came to tell you...I did not kill Jasper. He ended his own life, choosing to sacrifice himself, sparing the Varden, and sparing you the pain he knew you would feel at his capture."

He heard a heavy breath escape her lips. She stared at him still, but said nothing.

After a few seconds of silence, Murtagh turned back to the door, knowing there was no more reason for him to stay. He took the handle. Before he could leave, the healer was suddenly against him, her head against his back, her hands gripping the front of his cloak. He felt her shake against him, convulsing as she cried, all the emotion she had ever held in coming out with her tears.

Murtagh turned to face her, placing his hands softly on her arms. She lost her strength and crumbled to the floor, gripping his legs for some sense of stability. He lowered himself to her level, gently gathering her in his arms. She clung to him desperately, her face pressed against his shoulder as she cried.

He silently offered her comfort, stroking her back, remembering all the times she had held him, and how with her simple touch, she had healed his deepest wounds.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, it was kinda short. But don't think I could've made it any longer. And tagging on another part just didn't seem right. Anyhoot...**

**Please review. ^_^**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER NINE<strong>

Murtagh knelt before the mirror, waiting in silence as the image of his master appeared on the flat surface. Galbatorix's eyes bored into him, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts or emotions. Murtagh bowed his head, preferring not to have to look at him through the duration of their contact.

"What is it?" Galbatorix asked.

"I was successful, sire. Jasper is dead," he informed simply.

"Dead?" the king asked, the tone of his voice changing dangerously. Murtagh was grateful that they were separated by hundreds of miles. "I ordered you to bring him to me. Since he is dead, I only hope you were able to extract the information from him?"

Murtagh paused for a second. "I was not able," he answered, "Jasper killed himself before I could break through his mind." Murtagh knew better than to tell him the whole truth of the encounter, even though the king would inevitably find out in the end, when he returned to him. He decided to avoid his wrath for now though, and would bear his punishment when the moment came. Most likely, Galbatorix already knew he was lying, and would think carefully on what pain to inflict when they returned.

"Very well," the king said in the end, "As long as he is no longer a problem. What have you done with his body?"

It was an unexpected question, but Murtagh answered anyway. "I gave it to his mother, sire."

He didn't have to look up to know what the king was thinking. "I hope your relationship with that woman won't prove to be a problem for you in the future."

Murtagh could detect the subtle threat. It made him beyond angry, but he kept himself still. "It won't, sire," he replied tightly. He lifted his eyes for the first time, seeing the face of the king. "Shall I return to Uru'baen then, since my work here is done?"

"No, you will remain. The Elves are on the move from Ceunon. It won't be long before they're upon the city. I want you to stay and crush each and every one of their soldiers, and show them my might."

Murtagh swallowed against the lump in his throat. He had known this battle was coming, but he had futilely hoped it wouldn't be this soon. "Yes, master."

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><p>"You!" Murtagh called to the young soldier running passed him, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn back. He faced Murtagh, his eyes full of wonder and respect. "I need you to get me a horse, one of the fastest this garrison has, and I need it packed with enough provisions to make the journey to Uru'baen. And I'll need an escort."<p>

"Yes, Rider." The soldier nodded, complying without question. He turned and headed the opposite direction of which he had been going. Murtagh watched him disappear amongst the bustle of soldiers who were rushing back and forth, shouting orders and preparing for the approaching siege. Murtagh turned away from it all, heading down the hall to Zuriel's room.

He entered without announcing himself, not wanting to take the time. He paused in the doorway when he saw the healer asleep on her bed. He quietly closed the door, shutting out the noise of the commotion outside. He slowly walked to her bedside, watching her as she slept soundly. She looked exhausted, not from her work here, but from all the emotional toll this mission had taken.

He gently took her hand as it hung partially off the side of the bed. She didn't awaken at his touch, so he sat on the edge of the bed. He wished he could have just taken a moment to watch her sleep, to find some moment of quiet. But the sounds of the soldiers couldn't be ignored. Neither could his duty - his orders.

He took her by the shoulder, shaking her awake. Her eyes opened heavily, her brow creasing in confusion as she saw him hovering over her. He offered a soft smile, though he wasn't sure the situation merited it.

"Murtagh? What is it?" she asked, her voice quiet in the darkness. She lifted her head a little more when a soldier yelled something as he ran by the door.

"You need to get up," he said, helping her sit up.

"What's going on?"

He left the bed and gathered her bags which were set in the corner, all of them still packed. She still didn't seem to understand, even as he stood before her, offering her her small purse of medicines. "Come on, get up. You need to leave."

She rose to her feet, her tiredness melting away in a second. She took her purse from him and put it over her shoulder without question, then took one of the smaller bags from him. He slung the third one over his own shoulder, before taking her hand and leading her to the door. When he opened it, she caught sight of what was happening outside. She understood in an instant.

"The elves are marching on the city," Murtagh explained, leading her down the hall and passed the many soldiers, "They'll be here by nightfall."

"You're staying, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes. Galbatorix ordered me to fight."

"Then I should stay as well," Zuriel argued, "If there's going to be battle, I'll be needed more than ever."

"No, you can't stay," he replied simply.

They eventually came to the stables at the outskirts of the city, where the young soldier he had spoken with stood beside a gray steed. Two more fully garbed and armed soldiers stood ready nearby, beside steeds of their own. The soldiers, along with every horse in the stable, looked uneasy around Thorn, as the dragon sat perched nearby. The young soldier bowed to Murtagh as he approached, offering the reins. Murtagh thanked and dismissed him, and the young man rushed back to join the other soldiers in preparation.

Murtagh attached the bag he held to the saddle, then took her other one from her.

"Murtagh," she said, placing her hand on his arm after he was done, making him turn to face her. "I should stay."

"No, you can't," he answered. He expected her to argue, but instead she stood there silently in question. He looked away uncomfortably, ignoring the trickle of emotions Jasper had left lingering in his mind. "I made a promise to someone...a promise that I would keep you safe, if a battle came to Gil`ead."

Her eyes softened with understanding.

"Please," he said.

She stared into his eyes for a moment, before pulling him into a tight embrace. She held him for a long while, and when she pulled away, she grabbed him on either side of the head, forcing him to look directly at her. "Don't die," she said. Her right hand slid from his head, down to the center of his chest. "Don't die."

He smiled softly, "I won't."

She pulled away and turned to Thorn, staring up at his crimson eyes. He lowered his head to her level, allowing her to affectionately stroke the scales on his face. _You either_, she told him.

He assured her with a nod of his large head.

He stepped back from the both of them, turning to her steed. She pulled herself up effortlessly, then took a moment to look between the two of them. "I'll be waiting for you," she said. With a jerk on the reins, the horse turned about, beginning its gallop away from the city. The two soldiers both turned and followed after her, fulfilling their duty of escorting her all the way back to the capital.

Both dragon and rider stood watching the small party till they were far away, nothing but a speck in the distance. Murtagh suddenly felt like they were alone in this large city.

_Murtagh_, Thorn started, causing him to look to his young dragon. _Are you ready?_

Murtagh's eyes slid shut. Another battle was upon him, another slaughter. He had never battled elves before. He didn't know how powerful they would be, but he knew they still wouldn't stand a chance against him. He knew the Varden were also on the move, besieging the city of Feinster. He wondered where Eragon was. Most-likely with with Varden. But he knew there was chance he could meet him here.

Perhaps he would defeat him this time. Perhaps this time, he would deliver him to the life he hated so much.

He never answered Thorn. He wasn't ready, but he knew he had no choice. Without a word, he pulled himself into the dragon's saddle. Thorn crouched low, before springing into the air, his outstretched wings carrying them high into the sky.

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><p><strong>AN: Well I'm sure you can all guess what's coming next. *scared face***

**Question though: The elves won the battle at Gil`ead, right? I can't remember, and I tried looking through the book, but couldn't find if it said so anywhere. ****:/**

**Heh heh...please review. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: It suddenly occured to me that after this chapter, there's only one more chapter left.**

**I would like to thank Happygirl122 for putting the idea of writing this in my head. Cuz the story probably would have ended pretty blandly without it.**

**I hope it doesn't disappoint. Enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TEN<strong>

Like any other battle, it was a horrific scene. The noises of swords clashing, of men screaming, of battering rams and machines of war all echoed in the night. Smoke filled the air from the fires that he and Thorn had started, filling the darkness with an eerie light. All around him, he felt the people dying, felt their conscious minds slipping away. He tried to ignore them, tried not to feel their pain as they passed. Many of them he had killed himself, and even though he knew this was necessary, it still hurt.

He had done this before. He had learned it was necessary to kill early on in life. There were times he never felt remorse, instances when he even found taking a life exhilarating. When he and Thorn first tested their new power in battle, he had thrown aside all his inhibitions, and the conscience in the back of his mind telling him what he was doing: slaughtering his friends, the people he had once fought alongside. He found his power overwhelming, and he enjoyed it, especially as he killed.

He had no choice in the matter. Why then should he be reluctant? Why should he apologize for a life that wasn't his choosing? Why should he apologize because Galbatorix wanted them all dead? Why should he apologize because the Varden had made the choice to stand against him? Why should he apologize for everyone else's choices?

Even now, as he surveyed the carnage, he wondered why he should feel sorry. Why should he feel pain for those who had chosen to die here?

He pulled his eyes from the battlefield below, looking to the golden spectacle in the sky.

When he had been told a dragon was coming to the battle, he expected to find Eragon and Saphira. He hadn't expected another dragon and rider, and when he did see them, he was overwhelmed with fear and anger.

His anger outweighed his fear, and he and Thorn now raced to face their unknown adversary.

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><p>Lightning split the sky as the red dragon leveled out, facing the other rider. He opened his jaws, his loud battle cry shaking the earth beneath them, challenging the other dragon. Murtagh held Zar'roc firmly in his hand, looking through the hazy atmosphere as the golden dragon drew closer. He returned Thorn's challenging cry, his formidable wings spread far as he raced toward them. Murtagh took a moment to examine him more closely, and noted the missing leg.<p>

His attention went to the rider on his back - the obvious elf. Murtagh faced him directly, using his anger to cloud his conscience as both dragons met in the sky, colliding violently. The wards that surrounded Thorn repelled the larger dragon's attacks, and in turn, wards blocked Thorn's strikes as well. Murtagh felt the attacks eating away at his supply of magic, but it wasn't enough to worry him. He had only one thing on his mind, as he lifted his sword high and struck at the elf, taking opportunity as they were close enough.

The other rider deflected his his blow easily, his foreign eyes meeting his briefly. Murtagh felt the press of his consciousness against his own, and kept his barriers strong. He kept his concentration firmly on the battle as both dragons attacked again, claws and fangs grappling for one another.

After a moment of unsuccessful attacks, both dragons drew apart. Thorn put some distance between them, circling in the sky, keeping his gaze locked on their adversary. The gold dragon took a moment to regain his composure, before he attacked again. Thorn swerved out of the way of his larger body, weaving his way around to attack him from the side. In the wave of the motion, Murtagh took another strike at the rider. Their blades rebounded off one another, sparks flying. The dragons howled as they continued to strike, wearing down their respective wards. Murtagh knew they wouldn't last forever, and that was when the battle would truly begin.

The golden dragon drew away, flying several meters higher, circling in the sky as he sought to get an advantage over them. Thorn was quick to follow him, his smaller body having maneuverability and speed where the elder dragon did not. His jaws snapped as he reached for the gold dragon's throat, missing him by hairsbreadth as the other pulled away. The dragon's large legs came up to slam Thorn from underneath. He and Murtagh were thrown back a distance, tumbling in the air before Thorn steadied himself.

He leveled just as the other dragon came at him again, his body slamming against Thorn's. Once again, Murtagh was close enough to the rider to exchange blows. He threw all of his strength into his attacks, trying in vain to best the elf. The both of them lurched and swayed as the dragons scuffled, turning over in the air as both fought for dominance.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating them momentarily.

Both forces drew apart, circling each other in the air, going higher, drawing further away from Gil`ead below. The city was nothing more than a burning spectacle in the distance, the noises of its battle lost to them.

The gold dragon opened his powerful jaws, fire from within illuminating the air between them. A torrent of fire streamed at them, bombarding their wards before Thorn had a chance to evade it. Murtagh shielded his eyes from the intensity of the light, staying alert for the dragon's next attack. The stream of fire ended a second before the dragon attacked them from beneath. Once again, Thorn latched onto him.

Murtagh swung powerfully at the elf, watching Zar'roc rebound off his gold blade. The feeling of his consciousness was increasing, and Murtagh knew there was no way he could counter it. Overwhelming a human was one thing; he had never battled an elf before. He didn't think he could break his resolve, or take control of his mind, even if he wanted to. He suddenly realized that no matter how powerful he and Thorn were, this elf and his ancient dragon were still greater. He hadn't been able to defeat Eragon in their last encounter, and he wasn't even an elf.

He realized that he and Thorn might not win this battle, and he knew what that would be mean for them.

Thorn's painful shriek pulled him from his fearful thoughts. The other dragon had broken through his wards, his large ivory claws digging into Thorn's side. Blood fell from the gashes, but Thorn continued to fight. He attacked the other dragon's underside, his feet breaking through his scales, drawing blood. The next cry was not Thorn's. The red dragon pushed his advance, sinking his teeth into the top of the other dragon's left wing.

The dragon pushed Thorn off, and they separated for a minute. Murtagh took the respite to heal Thorn's injuries, as he knew the other rider would do for his dragon. As soon as Thorn's pain receded, he zoomed toward his adversary again. He slammed harshly into his left side, where he did not have the leg to defend himself. The force of the strike sent them plummeting toward the ground as the two of them battle ferociously.

The gold dragon clawed and kicked at Thorn relentlessly, but the young dragon held on. He clawed the gold dragon along his ribs and underside, tearing at his scales. The gold dragon cried out in pain, before he struck Thorn with his tail, driving one of its long spikes into his thigh. It was Thorn's turn to scream.

The dragon drew back, a fire igniting in his jaws once again. Thorn had no time or chance to escape it, and was engulfed in the searing flames. Murtagh felt the heat of the blast, even though Thorn's body protected him from it. He felt the dragon's pain as his own, screaming for his companion to pull away.

The other dragon ceased the flames just as they pulled apart, breaking away from their descent to the ground. Thorn straightened himself in the air, and Murtagh tried to grasp the severity of all his injuries. But Thorn ignored his own pain, looking only to the other dragon, intent on defeating him. Before Murtagh had a chance to heal his wounds, he charged the other dragon again.

Murtagh felt the first droplets of water hit his face as the dragons clashed. He fought the other rider, struggling as the elf moved quickly and skillfully, besting him where few others ever could. The two dragons continued to tear into one another, continued to rend flesh and draw blood.

As quickly as they met, both pairs parted again. Thorn flew higher into the sky, into the rain pouring down on them. Murtagh took the opportunity to heal a few of Thorn's more serious injuries, and to also replenish himself with some power from the Eldunari. He felt himself tiring, not physically, but from the mental strain this battle took. He knew they couldn't last forever. They needed to find a way to end this.

"Fly higher!" he shouted over the wind.

Thorn did as he said, flapping his wings to carry them into the clouds. They gained considerable height over their opponent.

"Higher!"

He watched them through the haze as Thorn circled above, looking for a spot to attack and catch them off guard. He knew they were looking for them. Thorn had to move quickly.

He tucked his wings in and angled downward, cutting through the sky and toward the other dragon for a final confrontation. Murtagh knew they wouldn't last far past that. If they didn't end it now, the golden dragon would.

Thorn slammed into the dragon's right side, sending them tumbling. Thorn continued to batter him, even as the other dragon wrapped his legs around him. He pressed him against his larger body, attempting to crush him in his mighty hold. Realizing what he was doing, Thorn tried to pull his way out. But the other dragon was stronger, and held him down. The young dragon cried in pain, clawing at the other's chest in a vain attempt to break free. His howl reached a new intensity as the gold dragon's teeth sank into his hind leg.

Murtagh was barely able to focus on his companion. He was too busy defending himself against the other rider's attacks. He wanted nothing more than to end Thorn's pain, to break him out of the other dragon's hold. He knew the other dragon was intent on killing him, just as the elf would not hesitate to drive his golden blade through his heart.

His frustration over the battle, and the anger that had continued to escalate from the beginning suddenly overwhelmed him. "Curse you for not showing yourself sooner!" he shouted at the elf, at his stoic, confident expression. "Curse you! You could have helped us! You could have-"

Murtagh froze, his voice stopping abruptly. Fear and panic overwhelmed him as he felt something break through his mind - an invading, violating presence. It drove away his thoughts, took the control from him, caused the world around him to black out for a second. He was hardly aware that everything was spinning around him, and the sky was growing close and closer.

His panic turned to revulsion as he realized what this was, and recognized the familiarity of the presence within - the iron chain that held his soul. Galbatorix.

Murtagh felt himself moving, found his lips forming words though his voice was not speaking. He couldn't comprehend what was being said, but he faced the elf and watched him in his anger and defiance. He saw the city of Gil`ead below them, and felt the pain in his lungs as he struggled to breathe the thin air. But he could do nothing about it.

He feared for Thorn, and knew he must be terrified, for Galbatorix's presence invaded them both, held them both captive and controlled their every move.

He heard Thorn scream in agony, and felt his pain as his own as the gold dragon continued to hold him, sinking his fangs deeper into his flesh. Murtagh longed to pull away, to comfort and heal him.

He heard the anger in Galbatorix's voice, felt it within his invaded mind. His muscles clenched as Galbatorix worked them, like a puppeteer pulling his strings. He felt the anger drive his actions, as he lifted his sword, dealing blows with the elf once again. His body moved like it never had before, with a skill and technique that was not his own. He watched in fear and anticipation as the elf defended himself.

Somewhere inside, Murtagh was almost hoping the elf would win. Galbatorix deserved at least one defeat, even if that defeat meant their death.

His hope vanished as he watched the elf convulse unexpectedly and unprovoked. The gold dragon suddenly released Thorn's leg and desperately tried to push him away. But they were caught in Galbatorix's web, and could move no more than Thorn and himself. Murtagh watched in horror as Galbatorix swung Zar'roc through him. The red blade smashed against the rider's gold sword, knocking it from his weakened grasp. It went tumbling to the ground below, leaving him defenseless.

The gold dragon's howls of fear and anger filled the night, mixed with Thorn's cries as he tried to push him away.

Zar'roc was a flash of crimson in the night sky, as Murtagh's hand sliced the blade across the elf's back, from shoulder to hip.

For an instant, Murtagh felt the scar on his back sting.

A blast of magic from the other dragon sent him and Thorn tumbling, breaking the web Galbatoix used to hold them in place. The dragon barreled away from them, flying with all the speed he had toward Gil`ead. Through Murtagh's eyes, Galbatorix watched them with sick satisfaction.

A warm tear ran down Murtagh's cheek, lost in the rain that drenched him.

The dragon howled like he had never heard before, his cry full of both rage and grief. He turned abruptly from the city, his focus only on the two of them. He flew back at them with double the speed, and Thorn dove to meet him. Murtagh was a spectator, as the two dragons came within reach of each other. Thorn dove to the side unexpectedly, attempting to flank him. The gold dragon was faster than him still, his powerful jaws catching Thorn by the tail.

His closest friend cried out in agony as the bone and flesh was torn from his body, blood raining from the half of his tail that was left. Murtagh shook inside from his pain, and would have screamed if the ability wasn't denied him. Even Thorn could not take the moment to process his pain. He attacked before the other dragon had time enough to face him. His sharp white fangs flashed in the darkness as they clenched around the dragon's skull, sinking into the back of his neck. With a quick, wrenching motion, he extinguished the dragon's life.

Thorn detached his teeth from the dragon's flesh, his howl once again filling the air - a keen of anger, pain, and grief. Murtagh was suddenly aware that Galbatorix's hold from him was gone, and in his disorientation and pain, Thorn started falling, plummeting to the ground without direction.

For the moment, Murtagh didn't care. His gazed was fixed on the falling dragon, and the lifeless elf that was still strapped to his saddle.

Half way down, Thorn regained his senses. The dragon leveled out, descending to the ground with more control, though his flight was still shaky. The other dragon crashed into the ground loudly, spewing up dirt and debris as he landed a distance away from the city.

In a matter of minutes, Thorn landed, crashing to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. Murtagh thrashed around, and Zar'roc fell from his gasp from the jar of the landing. He quickly fumbled with the straps that held him to the saddle, and slid from the dragon's back, crashing beside him.

Thorn's cries continued to fill the night. A puddle of blood was quickly forming beneath them. Beyond everything else in his mind, Murtagh knew he had to heal him.

He was stopped before he could start, the invading presence once again in his mind, tearing through his thoughts and desires. _Bring me his heart of hearts_, Galbatorix commanded simply, yet sternly.

Murtagh stared at his wounded friend longingly, aching inside with his agony, knowing what he endured now that their minds were linked again. Clenching his jaw, and closing his eyes, he turned from Thorn and inevitably faced the dead dragon. When he opened them again, he saw the creature's broken body, and the elf who had been thrown from his saddle upon impact. He tried to ignore him, tried to disconnect and drive all thoughts from his mind as he retrieved Zar'roc.

His dragged his feet through the hard dirt, his sword's blood-covered tip dragging after him. He stood before the dragon's massive bulk, gazing at his torn flesh, trying not to associate him with his own crying dragon.

He had his orders, no matter how much he wanted to - and one day prayed he would - defy them.

Murtagh drove Zar'roc through the dragon's body, his arms shaking as he did so, his eyes taking in the gruesome sight. Clenching his muscles, bearing through it, he tore through large body, looking for the Heart of Hearts. It was not there.

Thorn continued to howl behind him.

He stepped back, gasping. He stared at his work, at the body of the dragon he had mutilated further than necessary - at the blood that drenched the ground beneath his feet. It covered his sword and his hands. Zar'roc slid from his grasp, crashing to the rain-soaked earth. He gasped again as Galbatorix withdrew from him entirely, leaving him alone. He continued to step away from the dead dragon, but he could not pull his eyes away.

He back stepped all the way to Thorn, drawing on the power of his Eldunari. "Waise heill," he uttered. He felt the power flowing through him, and finally turned his eyes back to his companion. He watched the flesh around his tail meld together, stopping the flow of the blood. He stared in horror at the incompleteness of his work, at the half of Thorn's that was still missing. His dragon looked at him with fearful eyes.

Murtagh sunk to his knees beside him. His tears fell silently as he looked to the city, and the battle that was still raging - a battle he knew they were bound to lose.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review and tell me what you think. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Here it is. Last chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters****.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ELEVEN<strong>

He had felt this pain before. He wondered if he would ever grow used to it, or if before he was given the chance, Galbatorix would only increase it. He expected this, and he had even sworn to himself that he would bear through it. He would bear the pain that sent him convulsing, that wracked his body and his mind. He would not cry out for him to stop, and beg him to have mercy.

He drew comfort from Thorn's mind, even though the dragon hurt more at having to watch him. From his cries of fear and grief, he was consoled, knowing that at least he was loved and cared for.

His mind went back to Zuriel. He thought back to why he had gone to Gil`ead in the first place. It seemed so insignificant now. Most likely, it was already gone from Galbatorix's mind. All the trouble and suffering they had gone through was forgotten because at the end of the day, Galbatorix had lost Gil`ead. On top of that, he couldn't even claim another Eldunari.

Though none of this was their fault, they were punished anyway. Such was the way of things.

Murtagh's cries of pain died away as his torture stopped. Gasping heavily for breath, he rolled over, facing his young dragon and his pained eyes. After everything Thorn had to go through, he didn't deserve to be punished like this. Murtagh could barely grasp the pain he felt at having to kill his own kind. It was something they were never supposed to have to do. Thorn was to help revive the race of dragons, not kill what was left of them.

Murtagh looked to Galbatorix. The sound of his footsteps echoed as he turned away from them, his anger satiated for the moment. They watched him exit the room, to no doubt seethe over his defeat. They knew he wasn't done with them, but for now, they could have a moment of rest.

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><p>Thorn gradually lowered himself to the balcony outside their room. Murtagh was jarred from his reverie, hardly aware that they had arrived. Without pause, Thorn crumbled to the floor. His exhaustion over the battle, over their long flight home, and over Galbatorix's punishment, finally took its toll. Murtagh affectionately stroked his neck, before undoing the straps to the saddle and sliding from his back.<p>

He stood looking over his friend, watching him as he breathed heavily, his mind quickly drifting off to sleep. His eyes traveled along the length of his body. All of his wounds had been healed - all except one. The end of his tail was still missing, and Murtagh hadn't dared to ask Galbatorix if he could fix it for him. Perhaps after the king cooled down, he would realize that a dragon with a full tail would be of much better use to him.

He placed his hand on Thorn's shoulder, wishing him a peaceful sleep. Though he wondered how either of them could sleep peacefully after all they had endured.

He left the dragon, meandering inside to his bedroom. He froze in the doorway, meeting Zuriel's eyes.

Her face was expressionless as she stood before him, garbed in a black dress. She was the woman he remembered - calm and collected. There was still grief in her eyes, but she was here, waiting for him. She smiled weakly, unclasping her hand as she approached.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. His eyes went to the floor as her arms encompassed him, pulling him into a soft embrace. Though his first instinct was to be alone, he was glad he had found her here. He knew she could offer him more comfort than he could ever give himself. She saw his grief and pain, and as was her nature, she would do everything she could to heal him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding onto her as he rested his face against her shoulder. She stroked his hair tenderly and he basked in her warmth and comfort, letting go of the hold he put over his emotions.

She held him for as long as he needed it, not saying a word. He took a deep breath to compose himself, and wiped the tears from his eyes as she eventually drew back from him.

"Where's Thorn?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Sleeping," he answered simply. He walked passed her and went to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. She followed him, then sat by his side as he offered.

He sat with his shoulders slumped, his gaze to the floor, his eyes still haunted by everything that had happened. Her hand was once again on his arm, stroking him tenderly. "I'm here, if you need to talk," she offered.

Murtagh was silent for a moment, contemplating what she said. He never wanted to talk about that battle; he never wanted to think about it again. But in the end, he told her all of it. And he told what he and Thorn had just been through, at Galbatorix's hand. He wanted her to know about the other Rider, about the dragon that had been killed, and about what Galbatorix had done. She was quiet the entire time, her face expressionless, unreadable.

When he finished, her hand went from his arm to his hand that was gripping the bed in anger. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had heard we lost Gil`ead, but I didn't know..."

"Gil`ead and Feinster have both fallen. It'll only be a matter of time before the Elves and the Varden attack Uru'baen," he said. He finally looked back at her. "I want you to leave."

Zuriel smiled, as if touched by what he said. She shook her head though. "No, I won't. We're at war, Murtagh. I'm needed more than ever now."

"I won't have you killed here, Zuriel," he said firmly, turning to face her more directly.

"I know what promise you made," she replied, placing her hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could argue. "But I cannot leave. It is better that I'm here, to counteract the violence...especially now that I have nothing to lose."

He looked away again, at the memory of Jasper.

"And I cannot leave you and Thorn." She gripped his hand, pulling his attention back to her. "I'll stay by your side. I'll continue to do my duty...until the day that I see Galbatorix dead."

He returned her grip on his hand, smiling dryly. "You and I both." He laid back on the bed, letting the soft mattress cushion him, reminding him of how fatigued he really was. "Stay with us then," he agreed, "make sure we're never dead inside, and in turn, we'll protect you."

She smiled down at him, the first genuine smile that night. "We have a deal."

He closed his eyes, giving into his tiredness. He felt his mind quickly drifting off to sleep. He hoped that with Zuriel beside him, his dreams wouldn't be nightmares. He was vaguely aware of her hand on his head. She whispered to him softly words he didn't understand, before kissing his forehead. She left his bed, but by then, he was already fast sleep.

And as he slept, he dreamt that he was free.

_END_

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><p><strong>AN: I just want to thank all of you who have read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. It means so much me, and I had so much fun writing this fiction. It wouldn't have existed without you, and thanks for giving me the opportunity to learn and grow as a writer.**

**~Endellion ^_^**

**Please review...**


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